


big bad good

by vintagedean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, daddycest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-26 22:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagedean/pseuds/vintagedean
Summary: "It’s just, when omegas and betas present, they go through their first heat. For betas, it’s simple enough. They have both sex organs, but neither is particularly functional until they get a little older. For omegas, though, it’s a different story. First heats are intense, longer than the usual week for mature adults by at least three days, and it’s best if they have an alpha to help them through it. And on top of everything else, they’re immediately fertile.Everything they tell Dean about being an omega sounds miserable, though he’d never say so to Karen’s face. Like being a piece of meat for alpha dickheads until you find someone to knot you up forever and scare the other alphas away. But what’s got Dean the most unsettled--and what he feels he needs to talk to John about--is the issue of that first heat, should he present. Of all the bombs Bobby and Karen had dropped on Dean, it’s that one he’s hung up on the most.Because if Dean presents as an omega, the alpha most likely to get him through his first heat--and any thereafter unless Dean says no or finds someone else--is John."
Relationships: Dean Winchester/John Winchester, Dean Winchester/John Winchester/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37





	1. Extended Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> okay! so! this is a winding fill for a prompt by waywaywicked on tumblr. it was a lovely initial prompt born out of a desire to see John being a decent guy, not so marred by his past. Then it became an a/b/o thing and then it became a, well, let's get sam involved too, thing. and now i have this fic here that morphed into something that will hopefully meet all these delicious needs, but it's certainly shaping up a lot different in the writing than it was in my head. 
> 
> i hope the folks who have been waiting for this aren't disappointed! i can only write ultimately the story that i want, and that's what this is. but i really hope in the end it satisfies waywaywicked and anyone else who reads it! 
> 
> also please keep in the mind the first chapter is very gen and essentially a too-long prologue. i'll update as i go, but this is a story featuring incest and underage sexual scenarios. no sex until either sam or dean are 16 or older, but they're each in consensual vaguely sexual scenarios before that age, particularly sam. not sexual activity, but bed-sharing with hard-ons, looking at graphic images together, etc. i'll warn ahead of particular chapters as well.
> 
> this is my first a/b/o fic! god help me lol. if you want to hang out on tumblr you can find me @vintagedean. i chat about this fic sometimes, and will likely continue to do so.

Dean is five years old the first time he goes to live with Bobby Singer. Dad’s made it almost an entire year after Mom’s death without losing it too badly, but right around the anniversary, he can’t keep it together anymore. He leaves Dean and Sam with his old friend. 

Dean loves Bobby. He’s gruff but kind, and his wife, Karen, makes pie almost as good as Mom did. They read to Dean and his brother every night, and finally get Dean enrolled in kindergarten. He starts half-way through the year, but he’s quick. He knows the alphabet already, and can count to 100, too, which always makes Bobby proud. Bobby’s even taught him a little bit about adding and take-away, so he does fine, even starting late as he does. 

He doesn’t see John for almost six months, and Bobby doesn’t talk about him much. Sometimes Dean hears Bobby arguing with someone on the phone, and he thinks that’s Dad. He asks Karen about it once, but she doesn’t want to say. 

“Lot of folks know how to set him off,” she answers with an eye roll. “Could have been anyone.”

But Dean doesn’t hear Bobby yell into the landline again after that. 

Every so often, Dad stops by for a visit. He always shows up clean, smelling nice, but Dean can tell something’s not quite right, even if he’s too little to know exactly what. He sits with Dad on the couch, looking down at his feet while Dad makes small talk, and wishes he’d just give him a hug. Bobby and Karen hug him all the time, but Dean wants one from Dad.

He doesn’t get it till Dad is standing up from the couch to spend some time with Sam. Dad turns to leave the room, to leave Dean awkwardly on the frayed couch alone, and Dean can’t stand it. He runs up behind his father and throws his arms around his back, squeezing. John stops and turns back around. He leans over Dean, arms finally circling, and holds him tight. It’s the best hug Dean’s ever had. 

It takes Dean years to realize his need to be touched is special to him. Sam doesn’t have it, not the same way. As Sam grows, the years passing too quickly for Dean to even think to notice, Sam develops an independent streak. Dean tries to look out for him, tries to hold him and love him like Dean remembers being held and loved by Mary, but Sam can hardly stand it. The day he learns to walk, Dean’s life becomes exponentially harder, because Sam doesn’t learn to walk so much as he learns to _run._

They’re still with Bobby and Karen when Dean hits the third grade. Dad’s doing better, but he has yet to do good enough for the Singers to feel comfortable with letting Dean and Sam go with him. Besides, Dean’s in a good school, and he thrives on the structure. Dad comes around more frequently, once every couple of weeks, and sits with Dean on the couch cuddled up to him. He listens to Dean talk his ear off about everything third grade has to offer. Sometimes he’s beat up, but Dean’s smart enough not to ask the questions burning a brand on his tongue. Sammy’s in preschool, so he rambles on about him instead. Dean doesn’t care that Sam's the baby everyone coos after in restaurants and in line at the grocery store; he could talk about that kid all day. 

It’s the summer after Dean turns nine when Bobby and Karen finally give Dad the go ahead to take back his boys, but just for the summer to try things out. Bobby sits Dean down alone to let him know. 

“Your daddy’s a good man,” he says. 

Dean nods. “I know.”

“And he loves you very much.”

“I know, Bobby.”

Bobby sighs. They’ve had a version of this conversation a dozen times over the years, every time Dean getting it a little straighter as he grows up. 

“You know he was in a bad way after your momma passed. And he wanted to do right by you, but he wasn’t in a place to do it.”

“I know, Bobby, so Sam and I came to live with you until he got better.” He knows it’s rude, but he’s anxious to get to the part where he gets to live with Dad again. 

Bobby frowns at him. “Don’t rush me, boy.” But his face softens quickly. “Your daddy’s been working real hard over the years, but he’s had setbacks. And that’s why he’s been able to visit and stay with us, but you and Sam haven’t been able to stay with him. And your daddy agreed with that.”

“But he’s okay now, right? That’s why we can go with him?” God, Dean wants to believe his dad’s okay. 

Bobby shifts beside Dean. They’re on the same couch Dean sits with Dad whenever he visits. “He’s been working real hard, Dean. Real hard. And he seems ready.”

Dean’s holding his breath. “But?” He says, knowing there’s another shoe waiting to drop. 

“But we’re not going to know if your Dad can really handle taking care of you two until he’s got you. And I can already tell you, he’s going to need your help with Sammy.” He smiles fondly at Dean. “No one takes care of Sammy like you, Dean.”

Dean appreciates the compliment, but he’s more focused on what he thinks Bobby’s really getting at. 

“So we can still go with him?” he asks, excitement striking like flint to steel. 

“Yes,” says Bobby. “But just for the summer. You have to be back here for school.”

Dean can barely hear him, he’s whooping too loudly. He gets to be with Dad again. The school year can’t end soon enough. 

For the most part, the summer goes well. Dad’s got them in a small first floor apartment, and while Dean and Sam have to share a room, Dean couldn’t be happier. Even when Dad has to leave Dean to watch Sam for hours at a time while he works at the garage, Dean is happy. He’s nine years old, and he knows how to work a microwave to make soup, and the toaster oven to make pizza bites. He reads to Sam, or watches T.V. with him to pass the time. It’s not the most fun, but it’s life with Dad, and that’s enough for Dean. 

On Dad’s days off, he takes them fishing and swimming at the nearby lake. Dad always seems a little on edge at the lake, keeps Dean and Sam on an even tighter leash. But still, Dean’s happy. There’s a lot to love about living with Dad. He loves watching Dad tune up the Impala. Loves being tucked into bed by Dad’s big hands, even though Dean knows he’s way too old for it. The novelty of it being _Dad_ still hasn’t worn off. And Dean loves riding around in Dad’s classic car, with the windows down and the rock music blaring, Sam giggling beside him in the back seat.

But what Dean loves best of all is nesting into Dad’s leather jacket on the couch on sleepy Sunday afternoons. There’s a smell to Dad that permeates the material of the jacket. Dean always thinks the word _alpha_ as he inhales, shoving his face into the lining, though he only has a faint notion of what that means. He just knows that’s what Dad is, has seen him shoot lighting-quick snarls at strangers on the street when they stare sideways at either Dean or Sam. Dean knows betas, like Bobby, don’t act like that, and neither do omegas, like Karen. But he doesn’t know much else. Well, besides that omegas have heats. Dean’s old enough to know about those. That Karen is bedridden once every six weeks with hers, and that Bobby has to take care of her through them. That he has to _have sex_ with her, though Dean doesn’t let himself think on that too long. He figures he’ll have plenty of time to work it all out when he’s older and presents. But for now, he just revels in how Dad smells, and how the leather of his jacket soaks it all up, like a sponge. How he can smell it on his own clothes later. _Alpha_.

Everything’s fine until two months in. Dad’s been edgier than usual, reading papers from three different neighboring cities. Dean isn’t sure why Dad needs them--they never visit the cities they’re from, and he hardly thinks there’s that many newsworthy happenings Dad would need to know about. Still, Dad gets the papers every morning and pores over them obsessively, snapping at Dean if he interrupts one too many times. He leaves Dean to get Sam his breakfast, jotting notes into a beaten brown leather journal he’s forbidden Dean from touching. Dad has a lot of hard and fast rules: when it’s time for bed, when it’s time for chores, the quality he expects out of those chores. But this journal is the thing he’s most intense about. 

He’s at it all morning for a week, looking at his journal, re-reading from the newspapers, and then dragging out various books from a duffle bag he’d hidden in the closet. Dean watches Dad work, though he has no idea at what. He gets the sense if he were to ask, he’d be yelled at. Dad hasn’t raised his voice much over the summer--mostly at Sam when he’s disappeared to wreak some havoc while Dad’s back was turned. Dean usually takes over, knowing how Sam gets better than Dad, but even then he hasn’t heard Dad raise his voice more than two or three times in nine weeks. Still, he just _knows_ he shouldn’t interrupt Dad as he moves through the small apartment. That he shouldn’t question him as he calls in sick to work for the next two days. 

Dean starts watching the clock, noticing how the hours stretch between the last time Dad said a word to him and the present. He plays some with Sam, reads a little out of one of the books Bobby sent with him when he left. But Dad’s odd behavior weighs heavy, and after three hours of it, Dean goes against his own better judgment. 

“Where are you going, Dad?” he asks, voice timid. 

Dad looks like he’s going to snap at first, but then he stops himself. He takes a deep breath, and then kneels so he’s eye-to-eye with Dean. “I have to take off for a couple days,” he says. “You’ll only be alone tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow, or the morning after at the latest.”

Dean tries not to cry, but he’s struck with a sudden fear. “That’s two nights,” he says with a sniff. Two nights _alone._

Dad shakes his head. “I know it’s not ideal. You’re going to have to be brave for Sammy. Watch out for him, like you always do.”

“But where are you going to go?” asks Dean, tears coming freely. 

Dad puts his big hands on Dean’s shoulders. “A couple towns over. Not so far. And I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He stands. “I’ve made sure you have enough food for you and Sammy. Plus bottles of water, and we just did laundry yesterday.”

“But I’m scared!” says Dean. He hopes maybe if Dad knows, he’ll stay.

Dad gives him a firm look. “I know, son. You need to be brave.” He looks at Sam. “For your brother. People need my help--I’ve got to go.” He heaves a canvas duffle Dean hadn’t noticed over her shoulder. 

“Wait,” says Dean, watching Dad step back from him and towards the door. “You mean right _now_?”

John leans down to press a kiss on Sam’s forehead. He’s been sleeping on the couch, completely unaware of what Dad’s about to do. He looks back at Dean. “Sooner I leave, sooner I come back. Watch out for Sammy.”

“Dad!” cries Dean. But all it gets him is a sad look and an uncomfortable half-hearted wave before Dad’s out the door, the Impala’s engine roaring to life and then fading to nothing. 

-

Dean makes it two nights and three days before he breaks down and calls Bobby. Sam’s been crying constantly, wondering where Dad is, and while Dean can calm him down in the short term, inevitably Sam circles back to missing Dad, and the crying starts again. Dean wants to cry, too. Dad had said he’d be back by now, but Dean’s facing his third night in a row without a word from him, and his fear is becoming unbearable. He doesn’t know what Dad’s doing, or where he’s gone. But he’d said people had needed his help. Dean thinks that must make it dangerous. What if something happened to Dad now, too?

He pulls down the phone from the wall, chord tangling as he dials Bobby’s number. He's talked to Bobby every week while with Dad, checking in with him and Karen. He normally enjoys the perfunctory calls. This time, he’s shaking as he listens to the dial tone, wishing he could be stronger for Dad, but terrified about the fact he hasn’t come home yet. 

Dean barely gets out the words, “Dad’s gone” before he can hear Bobby’s keys in his hands. 

“Where are you?”

Dean gives him the address, and with a final direction to stay exactly where he is, Bobby hangs up to get on the road.

Dean’s waiting for him, still likely an hour or out from arrival, when Dad finally gets back. He’s filthy, and bleeding, and the look in his eyes scares Dean almost more than his absence did.

“Dad,” he questions weakly, afraid to touch, clutching Sam against him. 

“I need to rest, Dean,” is all his Dad replies before collapsing onto the living room couch and passing immediately out. 

“Daddy,” Sam says, crying, and Dean tries to soothe him before the tears become out of control. 

He tells himself it’s enough that Dad is back. That everything’s okay, even if Dad looks anything but. Dean curls himself and Sam into a thrifted armchair across from Dad, and tries to catch some sleep before Bobby arrives. He tells himself over and over that things will be okay. Dad is alive. They’re all together. It’s all okay.

Dean wakes some time later with the profound sense that he was wrong. They aren’t okay. There’s a _thing_ standing above him, it’s eyes bright and glowing, it’s open mouth nested into pale shriveled skin. It’s taking something out of him, though he doesn’t know what. He can just feel something leaving him, urging him to sleep. 

“Dad,” he tries to say weakly, but the word doesn’t make it out of his mouth. Just a faint, wheezing groan. 

He’s saved, not by his sleeping father, but by the apartment door opening. It slams against the wall with a _bang,_ and Dean sees Bobby with a gun in hand. He aims it at Dean, and Dean has just enough presence of mind to think _Please don’t kill me_ when the shot rings out. It doesn’t hit Dean, after all, but the thing feeding on him, which crumples into dust at his feet. 

If Dean had the energy to scream, he would. He turns to look at Sam, suddenly noticing the dead weight against him. The terror shakes him back into full awareness. 

“Sammy!”

Bobby is there then, shaking at Sam to wake up. It takes a hair too long for comfort, but Sam opens a bleary eye. 

“Bobby?” He murmurs. 

Dad appears then, just over Bobby’s shoulder. He pushes past Bobby to get at the them, to pull them both against his chest and squeeze. Dean is too weak to hug him back, and Sam is so confused, he just begins to cry. 

Bobby lets Dad hold them for only a moment before he’s yanking Dad back and scooping both boys into his own arms. He carts them out of the motel room, not bothering to grab anything they came with, and then gets them strapped into his truck. “We’re getting the fuck out of here,” he says sharply, buckling his own seatbelt, seething with a rage that has Dean balking. 

“No, kiddo, I’m sorry,” Bobby soothes. “It’s your fool daddy I’m pissed at. None of this is your fault.” 

Dad follows them out, yelling after Bobby to bring them back, but Bobby gives no notice he can hear the man as he settles the boys in his truck. 

Only then does Bobby roll down his window, glare at Dad with a look Dean’s sure could kill, and say, “You should be ashamed of yourself, John,” before starting the car and peeling out of the lot. 

Dean watches his father’s face shrink into the distance, the man on the whole getting smaller and smaller until he’s totally out of view. This is how Dean and Sam learn about monsters. This is when _Dad_ becomes _John_.

John shows up at Bobby’s house the next day, but Bobby and Karen don’t let either Dean or Sam see him. They’re both holed up in Dean’s room while Bobby yells himself hoarse at John. Dean can’t make out everything, but he hears the words _hunting_ and _Mary_ and _striga_ and _you promised_. Hearing his mother’s name is electrifying. Dean freezes beside Sam, realizing the way he feels isn’t totally foregin. He felt a version of this anguish five years ago. The night his mother died. 

Dean doesn’t know much about how Mary died. That it was an accident. That it happened in Sammy’s room at their old house. He knows John’s convinced something killed Mary, but he doesn’t know who. Or what. He never talks about it--Dean only knows what he knows from overhearing whispered arguments between Dad and Bobby. He’s heard the word _hunting_ before, too, used in such a way he doesn’t think either of them were talking about deer or rabbit. That’s what Dean puts together _hunting_ and _monsters_ and realizes what John does. 

It’s too much to process, and Dean spends the remaining days of his summer trying to make sense of it all. The terror of the days alone without John. The near-death experience with the creature—the _striga_. The revelation of the truth about monsters in general. The sudden understanding of how Mary died. Finally, Dean puts each painful thought into a neat little box in his mind and ignores how they hum in their containers, vying for his attention. He focuses on Sammy. On his chores. Bobby tries to talk to him about everything, but Dean can’t bear it. Karen tries too, and somehow that’s even worse. Dean doesn’t have the heart to shut her out, so he sits in a miserable silence while she talks about Mary. 

“Bobby knew her first, you know,” she says, smiling. “She actually introduced Bobby to your father. She was a hunter, like Bobby, though of course he’s retired now. He has his salvage yard, and we have hunters roll through sometimes to catch some sleep. Take a shower. Eat a warm meal. But he’s pretty much out of the life these days.”

She looks at Dean, eyes gentle. “Hunting, it’s a hard life. Not something you do with children. Your daddy, he needed hunting after your mother died.” She takes Dean’s hand. “I’m not saying it’s right, but it’s true. And so he came to Bobby, demanded Bobby tell him everything he could about what happened to Mary—which, mind you, was next to nothing—and Bobby said the only way he’d help is if John let you two stay with us.

“So here you are, my beautiful boys. And you and Sammy have brought so much joy into this old house.” She brings Dean’s hand to her lips for a kiss. 

“You can be as mad or as sad or as confused as you need to be, baby. We’re here for you, and we love you. And your daddy loves you too. More than anything.”

Dean scoffs at that, shaking his head. 

Karen just sighs and stands from the bed. “There’s cobbler downstairs when you’re ready.”

-

It takes Dean a while to let John back in, and when he does it, it’s mostly for Sammy’s sake. Sam never quite grasps what happened in that apartment, only that he used to see John every couple weeks, and now it’s been four months. He’s talked on the phone with him a half dozen times, but it’s hardly the same. It’s all the contact Karen and Bobby will allow, but Dean turns down even that. He needs more time. 

It’s only when Christmas rolls around that Dean finally agrees to see John again. Sam’s dying to see him, and Bobby and Karen are ready to open the door, but only if Dean’s okay with it. Of course, he can’t say no to Sam, and says yes. John can come for Christmas, and stay through the new year. 

He rolls up in his Impala on the 24th. Dean tamps down the thrill at hearing her engine, not quite ready to let go of his bitterness. Sam, on the other hand, rushes down the stairs to meet John at the door while Dean trails slowly behind. 

“Sammy!” Calls John, kneeling at the entrance to pull Sam into his arms. “God, I missed you.”

Dean hangs back, watching John with his arms folded. John watches him over Sam’s shoulder, and Dean can only meet his eyes for so long before he has to look at something else. When John inevitably approaches, Sam held against him with one arm, he only extends his free hand to Dean for a shake. 

Dean eyes it, wary, before shaking hands with his father. 

“Dean,” John says warmly. He smiles down at Dean, big and soft. 

“John,” Dean says, anxious to use his given name, but thrilling at the rebellion of it. 

John sighs, smile falling. “Guess you’re entitled,” he says. 

It’s uncomfortable through dinner. Dean’s almost ten years old, and he’s old enough to know when adults are talking around something because he or Sam are in the room. He tries not to let it bother him, but it’s annoying. He wishes they’d all just say what they want to say.

John tries to make conversation with him, but Dean’s too on edge to be open to it. He pushes his peas around his plate and gives John one-word answers, waiting for the meal to be over. When Karen brings out brownies, he can’t keep himself quiet. 

“Can I be excused?”

Bobby, Karen, and John all look at each other, like they’re not sure who’s the final word. 

“Sure, honey,” says Karen after a tense moment. “Take your plate with you.”

Dean nods, grabbing his plate and high-tailing it to the kitchen to toss the leftover food and rinse the plate off. After, he looks back at the entryway to the dining room and frowns, not wanting to pass through on his way to the stairs. He shifts his gaze to the door that lets out to the salvage yard, and then steps out into the night. 

It’s cold, too cold to be out without a jacket. Dean makes his way down a line of cars, shoes crunching in the fallen snow, arms clutching tightly to his chest for warmth. Still, it beats being in the house. He walks in the cold, trying to ignore it, until he can barely stand it. Then he finds a car with in-tact windows and slips into the passenger seat. 

John finds him like that ten minutes later, shivering his ass off in some beat up old junker, too stubborn to get out and get inside where it’s warm, because Dean doesn’t want to the deal with the man currently sliding to the driver’s side anyway. 

“You’re a damn fool,” says John with a chuckle. “You’re going to freeze your balls off.”

Dean doesn’t look at him. Goes so far as to look out his window so he can’t even see John peripherally. Still, he can hear as John shifts, the _shh_ of fabric as John adjusts somehow in his seat. The warmth of the leather jacket as John drapes it over Dean is thus a shock, and a pleasant one. He’s instantly more comfortable, blocked from the cold and enveloped in that smell he’s come to ache in the missing. _Alpha_. 

“Okay,” continues John. “I can deal with the silent treatment. But I’m still going to talk. Work for you?”

Dean shifts his head so he’s looking vaguely in John’s direction, and then he offers a minute nod. 

“Good.” He sighs. “I fucked up, Dean. Go ahead--say it. Word and all.”

That catches Dean’s eye. He looks at John directly. “You fucked up,” he says, defiance in his voice, even if the word _fucked_ comes out shaky. 

John laughs a little. “You’re damn right. And I’m going to work to make it up to you and Sam. And I know that may take a while."

Dean pulls his eyes away again, looking down at the worn brown leather of the jacket on top of him. “Did that monster kill Mom?”

He can hear the hitch in John’s breath.

“No, son. It didn’t.”

“So there’s more monsters?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Dean thinks on that a moment, considering all the monsters he can think of. Vampires and werewolves. Dragons and ghosts. 

“And you kill them?”

John nods. “I try. I try to save people, to help them.”

“But what about me and Sam?” Dean asks. “You left us alone for three days.”

“I did. And I regret that more than you can possibly know, Dean. But I saw there were people being hurt, people I could help.”

“Then call the police!” He’s getting angry again. 

John shakes his head. “The police can’t help with this kind of thing. They don’t have the right tools or information.”

“And you do?” Dean spits out bitterly. 

“I do. I made the choice to become a hunter after your mother was killed by one of those monsters. I’m looking for the thing that got her, and I’m going to find it.”

There’s a hard edge to his voice that makes Dean nervous. He doesn’t think it’s directed at him though. 

“I just want you to be my dad,” he says quietly. 

“I am,” John says, voice gentling. “I’m always going to be your father.”

Dean can feel the tears, and he fights them back as best he can. “What if you get hurt again? What if you _die_?”

“I’m careful, Dean. I know what I’m doing.” He reaches a hand over to wipe at the pair of errant tears trailing down each cheek. “And I’m changing the kind of hunts I take. Bobby Singer is a son of a bitch, but he’s right that I need to get my shit in order.”

Dean sniffs. “What does that mean?”

“That I’m hoping to be around a lot more for one thing,” says John. “If you’ll have me. Also that when I catch more dangerous cases, I’ll pass them on to other hunters.”

He’s not going to stop, and though Dean knows he should have expected that, to hear it confirmed still stings. 

“You think you can still have a relationship with me as a hunter?” asks John.

For a moment, Dean looks back out his window. Then he looks back to John and once again nods. It’s more forceful this time. 

John breaks out in a wide grin. “That’s my boy. Now let’s get back inside where it’s warm.”

Dean’s smile is fainter, but he lets himself be helped out of the car and walks with John back to the house, all the while clutching the leather jacket tightly around his shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's subscribed or bookmarked or kudo'd or commented!!! i don't think this chapter needs any specific warnings, but let me know if i'm mistaken.

Things are better. Dean still lives with Bobby and Karen, but John rolls through whenever he can. Dean’s still got some resentments—they flare up every time John gets back in the Impala to go kill some monster Dean isn’t convinced is John’s responsibility. 

As Dean gets older, the novelty of his relationship with John becomes more apparent. When he’s fourteen, he makes friends with a kid named Kevin whose dad is a police officer. While Dean’s experiences with the police have been limited, he listens to his friend wax poetic about all the cool shit his dad does for the community, and starts to think about John. 

“What does your dad do?” asks Kevin. 

Dean falters, as he always does. “He’s in the military,” he finally says, because it’s only a half-lie. John really did used to be a Marine. 

“Cool,” says Kevin. “So he knows how to shoot a gun, too.”

Dean thinks that’s a gross oversimplification, but he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“I don’t know what to tell people about you,” he tells John one day. Dean goes to stay with him sometimes for the weekend, and Sam too. But Sam’s got a cold that’s knocked him out, so Dean’s spending the weekend with John solo.

They’ve been driving around, talking about nothing. _Shooting the shit_ , John calls it, and he lets Dean say it, too. They drive a lot, just to get out of whatever shit motel John’s staying in. Dean loves their drives, always has and always will. 

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know what to tell people’?” John asks, turning to look sideways at Dean while he drives. 

“Kids at school,” says Dean. “They ask about what you do. Why you never pick me up. I don’t know what to say.”

“Shit, Dean,” John mutters. “I don’t know.”

Dean sighs, looking out the window. “Yeah, I figured.”

He waits for the rebuke; Bobby always gets on him for having an attitude. But it doesn’t come. John just lets Dean be. 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I know that won’t mean anything, since I’m not going to change anything.” 

Dean at least appreciates the honesty. 

“I don’t need you to say sorry,” he replies. “I don’t know why I brought it up.”

John shrugs. “Sometimes we get things on our mind, and it just feels better to get it out. Even if nothing comes from it.”

“I guess,” agrees Dean, though he isn’t convinced. He chews on his lower lip, this conversation about getting things off the mind dancing closer to a subject he’s even more uncomfortable with. 

John seems to sense it in the silence. “Something else you want to talk about, son?”

He doesn’t have the courage to say yes, nor the desire to say no. Because the thing Dean wants to talk to John about is something that makes him incredibly uncomfortable. 

Karen and Bobby gave him _the talk_ two days ago. The one about alphas, omegas, and betas. The full explanation of knots, and heats, and scent mates. About how he’d present himself around sixteen, and so would Sam. It’ll be easiest for him if he’s alpha, but if he’s a beta or an omega, there wouldn’t be a damn thing wrong with that either. 

It’s just, when omegas and betas present, they go through their first heat. For betas, it’s simple enough. They have both sex organs, but neither is particularly functional until they get a little older. For omegas, though, it’s a different story. First heats are intense, longer than the usual week for mature adults by at least three days, and it’s best if they have an alpha to help them through it. And on top of everything else, they’re immediately fertile.

Everything they tell Dean about being an omega sounds miserable, though he’d never say so to Karen’s face. Like being a piece of meat for alpha dickheads until you find someone to knot you up forever and scare the other alphas away. But what’s got Dean the most unsettled--and what he feels he needs to talk to John about--is the issue of that first heat, should he present. Of all the bombs Bobby and Karen had dropped on Dean, it’s that one he’s hung up on the most.

Because if Dean presents as an omega, the alpha most likely to get him through his first heat--and any thereafter unless Dean says no or finds someone else--is John. 

He hadn’t believed them at first, the idea too outlandish. It’s not that Dean can’t bear to think of his father as a sexual being; the whole Winchester-Singer crew has always been pretty open. He knows John touches himself, has heard him once or twice when they’ve shared a motel room. He’s pretty sure John’s heard him, too, in those same circumstances. Dean knows adults have sexual needs, and that he’s getting old enough to have them as well. Sex is hardly foreign to him, especially growing up with an omega in the house. He’s been raised with Karen’s heats, even seen her tied to Bobby a few times when they’ve needed water or a clean towel and called Dean in to bring them. 

There was no shame in seeing Karen held so tenderly by Bobby, even if it did feel a little weird to Dean to see them both naked, covered by only a thin sheet. “Bodies are just bodies,” she’d told him after the first time, back when he was ten. “We all got ‘em.” It’s a mindset he’s had ever since. He didn’t think any differently of Bobby or Karen for having seen them in such an intimate position. 

But with John, it feels different. Their relationship is good--the best it’s ever been, really. They talk. They trust each other, Dean thinks. Sometimes there’s still some bitterness, when John is clearly hiding something about his life on the road, or when he has to cancel time with Sam and Dean because a hunt’s running long. But Dean looks at John in the Impala beside him, and tries to imagine having his cock up his ass. He can’t do it without blushing. He can’t imagine _wanting_ that. Not from anyone, but especially not from John. In a lot of ways, John’s more of a cool uncle for Dean. Bobby’s the guy who tucked him in at night. Bobby kept him fed and clothed. Dean feels good with John, like they have a real relationship, but...he’s still _John_ , not _Dad_ in his head. It’s the one thing they haven’t gotten back since that failed summer together. And maybe if Dean saw John like more of a father, he’d feel more comfortable about the idea of taking his knot and being held like Bobby holds Karen. But as it is, the thought just makes him embarrassed. 

At the end of the day, Dean doesn’t think Bobby or Karen would lie to him, but if there really is a serious chance that one day Dean could wake up in heat with John knotting his ass behind him, he’d rather hear that from John himself. He doesn’t know how to start that conversation though, so Dean just keeps staring out the window, watching the landscape slow down as John unexpectedly pulls the car over. 

“Why’re we stopping?” he asks, confused. Nervous. 

“Listen, Dean,” says John. “I know I’ve fucked up plenty, but I’m here for you. Give me a chance.”

Dean looks at him, still unsure of how he wants to proceed. John just waits him out, keeping his eyes forward while Dean makes a decision. When Dean still hasn’t figured out what to say, John sighs. 

“Dean, I’ve already talked with Bobby and Karen.”

He smiles at Dean softly, safely, but Dean’s face still heats immediately. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. 

“Yeah. But don’t be mad at them. They just wanted me to know you might still have some questions.”

“No,” Dean says hurriedly. “I’m good.”

John clearly doesn’t buy it. “Because if you _did_ , that would be totally normal. If you felt a little, I don’t know. Weird, I guess, about me being the alpha to get you through your heats, that would make sense to me. If you even end up presenting as an omega.”

Dean swallows. He’s relieved John already knows what’s on his mind, but still embarrassed to think about it himself. “What do you think I’ll present as?” he asks.

John shakes his head. “Usually there’s no way to know.”

Dean isn’t sure he believes him. He hopes and prays and wishes he’ll present as an alpha, but he has this pebble of dread in his stomach, weighing him down, that has him thinking he’ll present as an omega. 

He thinks about how good John smells, something Sam never notices. Or about how much he likes to be touched and held. How much he likes touching and holding others. The times Sam and Dean have stayed with John together, sometimes sharing a bed if John’s got them all at a motel, he and Sam have spent whole nights together cuddled up. Sam likes it, but it’s really for Dean, who thrives on feeling Sam so close, another warm body. 

He doesn’t talk about it with anyone, because Dean’s too tough for that. Dad doesn’t take them on hunts, but he’s teaching them both weaponry skills and self-defense, and Dean works double-time, every time, to impress. He knows he’s a badass. But god help him if he’s an omega and has to become some asshole alpha’s little bitch thanks to his biology. No fucking thanks

“I don’t want to be an omega,” says Dean. He’s thinking of Karen, out of commission every six weeks and stuck in her room, just waiting for Bobby to finish up what little work he can’t get away with skipping, even for just a week. 

John laughs a little at that. “I don’t think Karen would agree. Heats are only a week, and if you find someone special to share them with, they can be really good.”

“Well, I don’t want it,” says Dean. “Having betas and alphas fight over the right to mount me all the time.” He shakes his head. _Not interested_. 

“It’s hardly a free-for-all,” John replies dryly. “We have a bit more self-control than that.”

“Still,” says Dean. “I want to be an alpha. Alphas are strong.”

“So are betas. So are omegas. Sex doesn’t have anything to do with how strong you are, Dean. You’ll still be _you_ if you present as an omega.”

Dean doesn’t know any better to argue, so he doesn’t.

“And as for that other thing,” John says. “It’s my job to take care of you, son. To get you through whatever life throws at you. And I’m going to do that for you regardless of what you present as.”

Dean knows he means it, but the problem was never that he doubted it. The problem is that Dean doesn’t think he wants that. 

That night, he touches himself in bed, mouth fused shut so John won’t hear anything in the bed next to him, and tries to imagine having something up his hole. He tries to imagine wanting a cock there, wanting _John’s_ cock there, but he can’t manage it. He pokes an exploratory finger around his rim, and winces. With no self-produced slick or lube, it doesn’t feel like anything worth doing, so he stops. Dean heaves a frustrated sigh and vows to stop worrying about his inevitable presentation. He’s only fourteen. He has time. And with luck, he’ll be an alpha, and none of this will matter. 

-

For Dean’s fifteenth birthday, John comes over for a big dinner. It’s nice—the whole family’s together, and Karen’s just finished up her heat so she can join in the festivities. She’s extra lovey with Bobby, they always are right after, and he dotes on her as he prepares dinner. Dean likes seeing them this way. He hopes he has something just like it when he’s mated. He watches as Bobby drops kisses on Karen’s head, brings her unprompted glasses of iced tea, and goes out of his way to take on her chores alongside his own. His love is evident, as is hers, and it makes Dean feel warm and soft in his chest to see it. 

John’s watching too. Or rather, he’s watching Dean watch Bobby and Karen. 

“I told you,” he says quietly, later. They’re on the couch, watching Bobby and Karen bicker good-naturedly about whether Sam needs a haircut or not. 

“Told me what?” asks Dean. 

“Sharing heats with someone you love makes it special.”

Dean’s cheeks flush. They haven’t talked about this since that time in the Impala a few months back. “You think I’m going to be an omega, don’t you?”

“That’s not what I said, Dean.”

“I thought you said there was no way to know.” 

John sighs. “Well, no way to know for sure. Not until it happens.” He looks at Dean. “You want to take a walk? Talk about this?”

Dean shakes his head, miserable. 

Later, after cake, Dean is still thinking about it. He’s worried everyone can tell that he’s unhappy, so Dean tries to keep a smile on his face. He doesn’t want Karen or Sam worrying. Luckily, Karen’s still exhausted from the heat, and Sam’s distracted by John’s presence and cake, so Dean mostly flies under the radar. It’s John and Bobby who keep sharing looks over his shoulder. Dean figures John’s going to want to talk to him again, and he resigns himself to another awkward conversation. 

It comes after the plates have been washed, after Bobby and Karen have excused themselves to bed, after Sam has disappeared to his room to play video games. John sits with Dean at the kitchen table.

“We don’t have to talk about it, Dean,” John says. “But if it would help, I’m happy to finish the conversation we started.”

Dean shakes his head. “Everybody gangs up on omegas.”

John clucks his tongue. “I remember high school. Everybody thinks with their knot whether they have one or not. It’s not like that when you get out into the real world. Besides, you’re not going to forget how to shoot a gun or use a knife just because you take it up the ass every few weeks.”

The crassness of it pulls a surprised laugh out of Dean. “Jesus, Dad.”

“It’s the truth. You would still be you.” He pauses. “You know, your mother was an omega, and she was a hunter before I even knew there was such a thing. She didn’t take shit from anyone, Dean. Trust me.”

It makes Dean feel slightly better, to know he’s probably following in his mother’s footsteps. He has so little to hold on to with Mary, he’ll take whatever he can.

He looks at John. “Why do you think I’m going to be an omega?”

The question makes John shift on the couch. “You scent my clothes,” he says after a moment. “A beta wouldn’t do that, and an alpha would be uninterested. An omega with scent sensitivity, however, might show more interest. Even if they haven’t presented yet.”

Dean sighs. That’s been his strongest evidence. too. That and the—

“Then there’s the touching,” John adds. 

Dean swallows. His second piece of evidence, as well. 

“You’ve been as tactile and supportive of Sam as any parent,” continues John. “That doesn’t have to mean omega; alphas and betas can be protective and touchy too. But the way you ease into it, the way you crave it, plus the scenting…” he trails off. 

He looks over at Dean and then raises an arm. “Sit with me, Dean.”

Dean almost says no, as if to prove he doesn’t need to be touched. But John has read him like an open book and correctly realized Dean’s dying for some physical contact. He only manages to refuse for about thirty seconds before he’s scooting himself over to tuck into John’s side, head on John’s chest. 

“What does this mean?” he mumbles into the fabric of John’s shirt. 

“Honestly, Dean, not much. You’re going to live your life like you always have, and in a year or so you’re going to present. If you're an omega, we deal with it. Together.” His hand runs up and down Dean’s back. 

Dean nods, saying nothing. He looks down at John’s crotch, where he can see the faint outline of his penis under his jeans. John’s big, Dean knows, but it’s never mattered to him before. Now he thinks about how if he presents as an omega, that part of John is going to be inside him. The thought makes him feel strange. 

They sit on the couch in silence for a bit longer before John gets them up for bed. He walks with Dean up the stairs, stopping outside his bedroom. 

“Dean, don’t fixate. You have time, and there’s no guarantee you’re going to present as an omega. Don’t lose any more sleep over it.”

Dean nods, wishing it were only that easy. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't going to update so soon, but i've had a frustrating day, so i am!
> 
> this chapter has some things i need to warn for:
> 
> \- sam and dean are going to look at explicit clinical pictures of adults having sex and get hard (no engagement with one another, or even interest in engagement)  
> \- after, they share a bed while they're both hard and will spoon. (again, there's no engagement with one another wrt to their erections, they just go to sleep)  
> \- dean starts sharing a bed with john, and of course, he's underage (16yo); just sleeping and scenting at this point

It takes a while, but eventually Dean stops worrying so much about how he presents. If he is an omega, so what? If the kids at school give him a hard time, he’ll kick their asses. None of the people who matter are going to care. 

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Sam says with a shrug. “Karen’s amazing, and she’s an omega. And you’re the best, too. What’s the big deal if you end up having heats?”

Dean bites his tongue. Sam’s getting older, a few months past eleven, and he’s starting to smell like John. It’s faint, Dean only catching small whiffs if the wind’s blowing just right. But Sam’s got that musky base note that drives him so wild about John. _Alpha_. Of course Dean’s annoying, nerdy, perfect baby brother is going to be an alpha while he’s going to get stuck with heats. And of course, Sam’s never going to have to worry about what having those heats might mean. What’s the big deal, indeed.

He doesn’t think anyone else can smell it on Sam, but then Dean’s only directly asked Karen, wondering if maybe it was an omega thing. 

“He just smells like boy to me,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose. “You both do.”

Dean sighs. He knows not everyone, omega or otherwise, has the scent sensitivity he’s got, but he wishes they did. Or that he didn’t have it in the first place. He’s not as sensitive outside the family, at least not with adults, but the kids at school are driving him up the wall as they get older and nearer to presenting themselves. Dean has to spend all day locked in a room with hormonal teens obsessed with sex, their pheromones causing a riot with his sensitivities, and it makes him want to hurl. 

At the end of the day he’s always rushing home to the salvage yard where it smells like safety and family. Where the world is clean and familiar and comfortable, and Dean can nurse his aching, spinning head in peace. Poor Sam gets Dean’s pheromone hangover the worst. Dean starts scenting Sam, burying his nose in the crook of his neck and the base of his hairline. They still share a bed sometimes, a vestige from the earliest part of their childhood when things had been real bad, and Dean always welcomes him in, even though they’re getting way too old for it. He’ll take any opportunity to cuddle into Sam’s back, feel the warmth of him. And now, to appreciate the smell of him. To anchor himself to that musk.

It makes Dean hard sometimes, cock stiffening into Sam’s back as he grips him in his sleep, but he doesn’t let that bother him. He’s fifteen, and it doesn’t take much to get him going. Sam gets it, teasing Dean for being easy. But he never asks Dean to back off or stop scenting him. 

“I like it when you scent me,” he says one night, cuddled against Dean. “Makes me feel safe, and warm. Wish I could scent you.”

“One day,” Dean tells him. “You’re gonna be an alpha, Sammy. Then you can scent me all you want.” Sam doesn’t have Dean’s smell sensitivity, so if Dean smells like an omega, Sam can’t tell. Won’t be able to until he presents, and only then if he’s an alpha. 

Sam scoffs, still skeptical of Dean’s sex. “Only if you’re an omega. You might not be.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Well, Dad thinks I’m going to be. That’s enough for me.”

That makes Sam pause, reminding the both of them of what will happen between Dean and John if he does present omega. 

He turns over and pulls a face, like he’s smelling something foul. “He’s really going to have sex with you?”

They stare at each other on their sides in the dark. “Don’t say it like that,” says Dean. “Dad says it’s going to be special.”

Sam doesn’t look convinced. “I can’t imagine having anything up my ass. Let alone _Dad_.”

Dean blushes. He’s not sure he can say the same anymore. “I don’t know. Might not be so bad.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

Dean swallows. “I’ve been looking at some pictures.”

John, in anticipation of Dean’s presumed presentation, had gotten him a handbook of sorts. It has a lot of pictures. Pictures of omegas in heat with slick spilling out. Of alpha cocks with swollen knots. Everything labeled, everything clinical. There’s some drawings, too, of every possible gender of alpha with every possible gender of omega, every possible tying that could be encountered. Dean’s eyes always linger on the drawing of an alpha male mounting an omega male, imagining how John’s going to feel when he does that to Dean. 

He figures he can deny the possibility, or come to terms with it, and Dean’s always been the practical kind. 

“Are you going to show me?” asks Sam.

“Sure,” says Dean, wetting his lips. He slips out of the bed to the closet where he keeps the book hidden away. He grabs it, and returns to Sam, sitting on top of the blankets. 

Sam moves to sit by him, reaching for the book greedily. “Holy shit, Dean,” he says as the book opens naturally to the page Dean looks at the most. The page with the diagrams of tied couples. “You’re going to do that with Dad?”

“If I present that way, then yeah.” Dean feels a little breathless about it. 

“This says it feels really good.”

Dean nods. “I know.”

Looking at the pictures, they both start getting hard. Dean peeks at Sam’s crotch, and can see the outline of his penis mirroring his own. 

Sam’s eyes are drinking every page, fingers lingering over the same picture Dean has touched himself to. The alpha and omega male, tied together in a loving embrace. The omega looks so small and satisfied in their alpha’s arms, and at the point where they’re joined, the reddened flesh of the knot is just visible inside the omega’s hole. 

“It looks—“ Sam starts. “Different than I expected.”

“Yeah,” agrees Dean. He puts his hand down over the same picture, fingers bumping Sam’s. 

They sit like that a little longer, flipping through the pages quietly. Then, Dean carefully takes the book and puts it back in the closet. They’re still hard when they get back under the covers, and Dean doesn’t bother hiding it as he spoons himself along Sam’s back. He leans his head down to scent Sam one last time, and then drifts to sleep.

-

In some ways, life gets easier once Dean moves from ignoring that he’s almost of presenting age, to accepting he’s likely going to present omega. He stops dreading what might happen, and starts preparing instead. He finishes the book John gives him, and starts asking Karen more questions. 

“Did you change at all? After you presented, I mean?”

She shakes her head. “No, honey. I was in school when the fever hit. My dad was working, so my uncle came and got me. He was the only alpha in the family, anyway, so he got me through my heat. Lasted about two weeks, which was a little long, even for a first heat. And then I went back to school and everything was the same.” She shrugs, laughing a little at Dean’s wide eyes. 

A _two week heat_. He can’t imagine it. 

“My uncle was my heat mate for the first two years, actually. Then I met Bobby.” She smiles. “Love at first sight.”

“So, I’m really still going to be me?” Dean’s not so sure why he’s having such a hard time trusting that fact. Maybe because in movies and tv shows, omegas are almost always pushovers and babymakers. He doesn’t want to be either. 

“Yes, Dean. You’re not going to suddenly become baby-crazed and placid.”

It sounds so stupid to hear out loud, especially the baby stuff. John can’t even get Dean pregnant, being such a close relative. But Dean can’t help his anxieties, can’t help worrying that being an omega is going to make him nuts for a kid he’s too young to have. So much of the omega porn he’s managed to find in the few magazines he’s been able to lift from the seedy gas station down the street, is about breeding, and he’d started to think that was the only thing omegas thought about when taking a knot. 

“Do you think you’ll ever want kids?” Sam asks one day while lazing on Dean’s bed. 

Dean shrugs as he folds his laundry. “I don’t know. Not for a while.”

“I can’t imagine being pregnant.”

Neither can Dean, and he’s not particularly interested in talking about it either. He puts the last pair of socks into the top drawer of his dresser and slams it closed. “Don’t you have homework to do?”

“Sheesh,” Sam quips. 

Dean frowns at him. “Well?”

“Someone’s cranky,” Sam mutters, climbing off Dean’s bed. 

“Yeah, so get lost,” Dean snaps back. 

“You know,” cracks Sam as he makes for the door, “birthdays are supposed to be a good thing.” 

Dean snarls at him, but Sam’s already gone, shutting Dean’s door behind him. 

It irritates Dean that Sam is right. That the closer he gets to his sixteenth birthday, the more frustrated he becomes, and he doesn’t know why. He feels at peace with his sexuality, and more or less prepared. And besides, it’s not like he’s going to wake up the day he turns sixteen and suddenly bust out a fever. It could come before. It could come well after. Age is just a loose marker. 

But everyday Dean feels a little itchier in his skin, like it fits him too tightly. Like he’s constricted. When John shows up for the party and an extended two week visit, Dean can’t even summon the enthusiasm he’d normally have. He just waves at John from the couch where he’s reading comic books and bitching with Sam about who’d win in a fight, Batman or Iron Man. He barely even talks to John until after dinner, when John announces he’ll be sharing Dean’s room while Sam clears the table.

“What? _Why?_ ” he asks, voice raising. Behind him, Sam stumbles, nearly dropping the dishes he’s holding.

“Whoa, son,” John replies. “It’ll help with your first heat.”

“But I’m not in heat!”

“No, Dean, but you’re clearly hormonal, which is normal for teens gearing up to present. Time with me will help even you out.”

Dean chokes, face heating. He hears Sam stifle a snort. 

“Shut the fuck up, Sam!” he yells. 

“Dean!” Karen, Bobby, and John all say at once. 

“Outside, now,” says John, voice low and angry. It’s all alpha, and Dean shivers at the tenor of it. 

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles as he pushes back from the table. 

It’s cold on the back porch, and Dean rubs at his arms while he waits for John to join him. Luckily, it doesn’t take John long to step outside, and he’s got one of Dean’s sweaters in his hand. He hands it to Dean before speaking. 

“You can be as pissy as you want, Dean. You can be as angry and frustrated, I don’t give two shits. But you _do not_ raise your voice at your brother.”

“He was laughing at me,” Dean says. 

“Yeah, and don’t think for a minute I’m not going to give him the same earful I’m giving you. Because that’s my place, not yours.”

“Because you’re an alpha,” snaps Dean before he can stop himself. 

“Because I am your father,” John says, voice lowering to almost a whisper. “And you are right up to the line of what kind of attitude I’ll tolerate from you. Think real hard before you cross it.”

It takes every fiber of Dean’s being not to spit in John’s face. He feels so filled with...with _something_ that he wants to scream, to shout, to punch. He feels completely out of control. He wants to _present already_ and be done with this bullshit roller coaster. 

“Why am I like this?” he asks John through gritted teeth.

John sighs, stepping forward. He puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “Because you’re sixteen, Dean. You’re sixteen and hormonal and on the verge of presenting. This is what it’s like for everyone, no matter how they present. It’s just part of it. But because we know you’re probably presenting omega, that means we know what can help even you out.”

“You,” Dean says, resigned. 

“Don’t sound so excited about it,” John says with a huff and removing his hands. 

Dean looks away, out across the lot of beat-up cars. “It’s not about you,” he says. “I just hate how this feels.”

“Then let me help,” says John. 

Finally, Dean wills his body to relax. He looks at John and nods. “Can we go back in now?”

“Yeah, I’m freezing out here,” John agrees. 

The first thing Dean does when he gets inside is find Sam and apologize. Then he apologizes to Karen and Bobby for being disrespectful at the table. He waits for John in the living room, knowing he’s giving Sam the promised lecture about being a dick. When John is finished, he comes into the living room and nods at Dean. Dean gets up from the couch and follows John out of the room, letting him lead the way. John doesn’t say anything, but somehow Dean knows he’s supposed to stick with him. He’s not really surprised when John leads them both up to Dean’s room. 

John starts undressing the moment he gets into the room, giving Dean pause. 

“Dad?” he asks. 

John looks at him. “I want you to scent me, Dean. It’ll level you out, and that’s easier if I’m shirtless. Besides, soon enough, you’re going to be very familiar with all of this.” He gestures up and down himself, and Dean swallows. 

“It’s a lot to get used to,” Dean says, tentatively taking off his own clothes. He doesn’t technically need to undress to scent John, but he figures the same way he’s going to have to get used to John’s body being on display, he needs to get used to his own on display too. He looks to see what John leaves on, if anything, and is relieved to see he at least keeps his boxers on. That’s a leap Dean isn’t ready to take just yet. 

They crawl into bed together when they’re both down to their underwear, John laying on his back. He stretches his arm out so Dean has the room to cuddle in and press his nose against John’s chest.

“I like being close to you,” Dean says, infinitely more relaxed than he’s felt in weeks. 

“I’m glad,” says John with a laugh. “The magic of biology.”

They stay like that for a while, without talking. The only light is from the small lamp on Dean’s nightstand, and it gives the room a cozy, blanketed feel. It’s early, but Dean feels in real danger of falling asleep. 

“I think Sam’s going to be an alpha,” he says to keep himself awake.

“You can smell it?” asks John. 

“Yeah. It’s not as strong, but he smells like you.” Dean inhales for emphasis.

“Well, at least there’s not another alpha in the house. Shit can get messy when there is.”

“What about you?” 

“I don’t live with you boys.”

Dean tilts his head to look up at John. “Do you ever wish you did?”

Dean can feel the rise and fall of John’s chest as he sighs. “Sometimes.”

Dean wants to ask more. Wants to demand that John stay, that he give up hunting to be their dad again. But he knows it’s a pointless exercise. 

“Sam can’t believe you’re going to mount me,” he says, switching one difficult topic for another. And besides, It’s easier for Dean to talk about what’s going to happen when he presents when he does so through Sam. 

“He can’t?” John says like he knows what Dean’s doing. “How come?”

Dean shrugs, the motion a little awkward with the way they’re laying. “Just seems weird. That you’re going to be inside me like that.” 

John hums, the rumble reverberating through his chest and against Dean’s cheek. “You reading that book I gave you?” he asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you know about slick, Dean. Your body was made for this. We’re going to go slow, and I’m going to make sure you’re ready. And when I get inside you, I promise it’s going to feel good. I wouldn’t let your heat be something you regret.”

“I know,” says Dean, letting himself imagine it, what it might be like. “Karen says it’s the best feeling. So does the book.”

“So, believe us, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he says nothing. He stays splayed against John, breathing him in until he’s dozing off. John nudges him then, pulling away and signaling that it’s time to get ready for bed proper. They take turns using the bathroom, meeting back in Dean’s room to crawl back under the sheets. This time, they lay on their sides, Dean’s back tucked against John’s front. 

“It’ll be all right, Dean,” John whispers. 

“I know,” Dean whispers back.


End file.
